of Korean TV miniseries. Wasn’t real
life far more fun even if the characters were not as good looking?) “Are you going
up to the main house?”
“Well, I was looking for the—”
“Me too. Let’s take the lift. Just one person; I always feel bad, so you come with
me.”
The little chairlift ran up the slope alongside the stone steps and into the house,
not stopping till it reached the second floor.
“We should have pressed ‘one.’”
“The toilet up here is nicer. Got real flowers instead of plastic like downstairs.”
“Shh—” Aunty Lee heard something.
“Dad, you have to do something about Mabel!” It was Sharon’s voice, coming from one
of the rooms. It was harder to make out Henry’s mumbled response.
It was interesting, Aunty Lee thought, that while Mabel’s daughter addressed her by
name, her husband called her “Mum.” Aunty Lee would not like to be called “Mum” by
a man who had to be at least seventy.
“We shouldn’t stand here listening,” Doreen said.
“Then how will we hear anything?” Aunty Lee asked reasonably and very quietly.
“I can’t hear anything anyway. I got my eyes fixed, so now I can see better, but I
still cannot hear properly.”
“What did you do to your eyes?” Aunty Lee asked. “Cataract removal, is it?”
“Cataract and some kind of corny transplant. Henry got that young doctor of his to
do it for me.”
“That Dr. Yong that’s looking after his son? I thought Henry Sung is a doctor, right?
Why can’t he take care of his own son?”
“Henry is a very good doctor but we are all getting on a bit, so they have that boy
here to take care of the daily things. And also he is in Mabel’s prayer and healing
group, so she can keep an eye on him and everybody is happy.”
“He prays while operating, ah? Like that’s how to concentrate? Must be like talking
to God on mobile phone while driving, right?”
“No lah! Other people pray while he operates, lor. And it is not just praying, they
are very scientific. Last time Mabel told us about this man in America who was cured
of stage-four liver cancer by Plácido.”
“Plácido Domingo?” Aunty Lee hazarded a guess. “One of those man singers who sings
Christmas songs?”
“Maybe. Oh, I don’t know. My ears are not yet fixed to hear properly. I was supposed
to have some hearing thing put in, then the clinic at BTP burned down so it was postponed
until I don’t know when. Ah, GraceFaith. Come here. You must tell my friend Rosie
about that man cured by Plácido. You know, that one Mabel was talking about. I must
stay up here in the air-con for a while. I can’t stand the heat. I don’t see why people
have parties outside in Singapore. Even Lee Kuan Yew uses air-con.” It being a truth
acknowledged among Singaporeans if not universally that their country’s first prime
minister could do no wrong.
“It’s not that hot, Doreen,” GraceFaith said. She put a hand on the older woman’s
arm and propelled her firmly toward the chairlift. “And it was placebos Mabel was
talking about, prayer and placebos. I’ll switch on the chairlift for you, okay?”
“Oh!” Doreen stumbled and almost fell. “My legs not so good, can’t walk so fast. Ow!
Girl, you are hurting my arm! I think I’m going to faint, let me sit down quietly
for a while. I need some warm water. Rosie, if I don’t make it, please tell Henry
and Mabel it’s not their fault. I am an old woman and not well.
“We can sit here comfortably for a while,” Doreen Choo said to Aunty Lee once GraceFaith
had found them chairs and gone in search of warm water.
Aunty Lee was impressed.
“You mentioned a fire at Bukit Timah Plaza?” Aunty Lee was always interested in fires.
“How come I didn’t hear about this?”
“Small fire only. I think only one foreigner died but nobody knows who. You wouldn’t
be interested.”
“Are you waiting to see my father?”
life far more fun even if the characters were not as good looking?) “Are you going
up to the main house?”
“Well, I was looking for the—”
“Me too. Let’s take the lift. Just one person; I always feel bad, so you come with
me.”
The little chairlift ran up the slope alongside the stone steps and into the house,
not stopping till it reached the second floor.
“We should have pressed ‘one.’”
“The toilet up here is nicer. Got real flowers instead of plastic like downstairs.”
“Shh—” Aunty Lee heard something.
“Dad, you have to do something about Mabel!” It was Sharon’s voice, coming from one
of the rooms. It was harder to make out Henry’s mumbled response.
It was interesting, Aunty Lee thought, that while Mabel’s daughter addressed her by
name, her husband called her “Mum.” Aunty Lee would not like to be called “Mum” by
a man who had to be at least seventy.
“We shouldn’t stand here listening,” Doreen said.
“Then how will we hear anything?” Aunty Lee asked reasonably and very quietly.
“I can’t hear anything anyway. I got my eyes fixed, so now I can see better, but I
still cannot hear properly.”
“What did you do to your eyes?” Aunty Lee asked. “Cataract removal, is it?”
“Cataract and some kind of corny transplant. Henry got that young doctor of his to
do it for me.”
“That Dr. Yong that’s looking after his son? I thought Henry Sung is a doctor, right?
Why can’t he take care of his own son?”
“Henry is a very good doctor but we are all getting on a bit, so they have that boy
here to take care of the daily things. And also he is in Mabel’s prayer and healing
group, so she can keep an eye on him and everybody is happy.”
“He prays while operating, ah? Like that’s how to concentrate? Must be like talking
to God on mobile phone while driving, right?”
“No lah! Other people pray while he operates, lor. And it is not just praying, they
are very scientific. Last time Mabel told us about this man in America who was cured
of stage-four liver cancer by Plácido.”
“Plácido Domingo?” Aunty Lee hazarded a guess. “One of those man singers who sings
Christmas songs?”
“Maybe. Oh, I don’t know. My ears are not yet fixed to hear properly. I was supposed
to have some hearing thing put in, then the clinic at BTP burned down so it was postponed
until I don’t know when. Ah, GraceFaith. Come here. You must tell my friend Rosie
about that man cured by Plácido. You know, that one Mabel was talking about. I must
stay up here in the air-con for a while. I can’t stand the heat. I don’t see why people
have parties outside in Singapore. Even Lee Kuan Yew uses air-con.” It being a truth
acknowledged among Singaporeans if not universally that their country’s first prime
minister could do no wrong.
“It’s not that hot, Doreen,” GraceFaith said. She put a hand on the older woman’s
arm and propelled her firmly toward the chairlift. “And it was placebos Mabel was
talking about, prayer and placebos. I’ll switch on the chairlift for you, okay?”
“Oh!” Doreen stumbled and almost fell. “My legs not so good, can’t walk so fast. Ow!
Girl, you are hurting my arm! I think I’m going to faint, let me sit down quietly
for a while. I need some warm water. Rosie, if I don’t make it, please tell Henry
and Mabel it’s not their fault. I am an old woman and not well.
“We can sit here comfortably for a while,” Doreen Choo said to Aunty Lee once GraceFaith
had found them chairs and gone in search of warm water.
Aunty Lee was impressed.
“You mentioned a fire at Bukit Timah Plaza?” Aunty Lee was always interested in fires.
“How come I didn’t hear about this?”
“Small fire only. I think only one foreigner died but nobody knows who. You wouldn’t
be interested.”
“Are you waiting to see my father?”
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